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CHAPTER 28

SLOANE

W e were drunk.

And horny.

Very horny.

Or at least I was. I couldn’t seem to keep my hands off him.

It was like telling him had freed something inside me, and now after telling him verbally what he meant to me…I wanted to physically show him too.

The after-party had gotten out of control. At one point I’d gulped beer from the Stanley Cup and then tried to do snow angels in the middle of the ice with Monroe.

We were back at Logan’s place, though, and I was bound and determined that part two of the after-party was about to begin.

“Who cares about championships,” he growled. “You’re the only thing I need.” We stumbled into his entryway, practically attacking each other’s lips as we tried to walk.

“I would say that was corny, but it just sounds hot,” I panted as his lips trailed down my neck.

“I want to fuck you in my jersey,” he begged. “Can we make that happen since I was such a good boy and scored the game-winning goal?” His hands slid down and gripped my ass.

“Don’t get any ideas that will always work,” I said as he moved back to my mouth. His tongue slid between my lips and tangled with mine, deep, long licks that had me moaning into the kiss.

“But it can work this time, right?” he asked, and I whined as his hand pushed between my legs, massaging my clit through my leggings as he continued to destroy me with his kiss.

“Yes,” I groaned, my hands running over his neck and shoulders as I arched against his touch.

Suddenly he moved away, and I whimpered, my body a live wire of need. It was still amazing how fast he could take me to the edge every time.

“Be right back. I’m not going to miss out on this,” he said. “It’s important to reward yourself.”

I snorted at him and grinned. “Or I could follow you so we aren’t having sex on the hallway floor.”

He groaned like I’d said something amazing.

“Add that to the list. Hallway sex,” he muttered as he suddenly scooped me up and walked us down the hall and into his room.

He was always adding things to this imaginary sex list we evidently were keeping. And all of his suggestions were very hot.

Logan almost fell over as he set me down on the bed, and I was giggling as he straightened and pressed a kiss on my nose before practically running to his closet.

A second later, he appeared with a Dallas Knights jersey. Swinging it above his head, he stalked toward me.

“Get naked baby,” he ordered, tossing the jersey at my chest.

“Only if you beg,” I told him. I’d never felt powerful having sex before, but with Logan, the way he wanted me, it was impossible not to.

Logan smirked and slowly slid to his knees. “Please, baby. Strip for me.”

I slid off the bed and then began working my leggings and T-shirt off until I was standing there in nothing but my bra and underwear.

“Take those off too,” he said, a hint of red staining his cheeks as he took me in.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Please, Sloane. I want to see you. So, so bad.”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” I said, my voice coming out breathy as I undid the front clasp of my bra, and my breasts sprung free.

“Holy fuck,” he groaned, licking his lips as he stared at my chest.

I took my time taking off my underwear, snapping it at his face when I was done. He caught it and brought it to his nose, breathing in as he groaned.

“ Fuuuuck , I need you,” he said, pushing his sweats down. His giant dick sprung free, and my mouth literally watered. He wrapped the lace panties around his cock and began thrusting. “Now put on the jersey.”

My eyes were locked on his dick, but somehow I managed to slide it on, my nipples brushing against the rough fabric as I pulled the jersey all the way down.

He groaned again, closing his eyes for a moment as he squeezed his dick before he slowly got up off his knees.

“Turn around,” he demanded stalking toward me.

I immediately obeyed, glancing at him over my shoulder as I watched him strip off his shirt and sweats until he was standing there in all of his naked, tattooed glory.

Fuck. I’d never seen anything hotter.

“Bend over,” he ordered as he slowly lowered himself to the floor once more—this time right behind me. I fell forward, my face pressing against the mattress as he slowly moved the jersey up so my ass was bared to the cool air. I could feel his breath against my skin, and then his hands worked my cheeks, massaging and kneading them.

There was a pause and then thwack . Logan spanked me, his lips soothing my skin when I yelped.

He separated my ass cheeks, and then his tongue was dipping in between my folds, touching everything, including my asshole.

“Logan,” I cried as I thrust backward.

He laughed wickedly before his mouth moved back down, his thumb pressing against my asshole as he licked my core.

His stubble scratched my thighs, and the sensations were too much. Logan’s tongue pressed inside my slit at the same time as his finger pushed into my ass.

“Fuck,” I cried out.

“This pussy. I want to die eating it,” he growled.

Right as I was about to come, he once again withdrew, and I squeaked as he flipped me over.

His eyes were heavy-lidded as he stared down at me, his tongue peeking out from his mouth as he slowly slid it across his bottom lip.

“Holy fuck. Best celebration present ever,” he whispered, sounding dazed, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

I blushed, my head spinning from the champagne and his touch and the way he made me feel.

“Say it. Say it to me, Red,” he demanded.

“Please fuck me, Logan,” I begged.

“That’s my good girl,” he said, sliding his tip through my wet folds. “That’s my good fucking?—”

He surged inside me.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his head falling back for a second as he took a deep breath.

He was the picture of erotic perfection, his tattooed muscles straining as he held himself there. Logan took a deep breath and then stared down at me again. “It’s so good, Red,” he purred, leaning over to kiss me, his tongue thrusting in my mouth as he groaned.

“Love you, baby,” he murmured as he dragged himself back, stopping when just his tip was inside me. My insides fluttered at his words. I wondered when that would stop. When I would get used to the fact that someone in the world said that they loved me.

His hands pushed my thighs wider as he slid all the way in until he was seated deep inside me. My pussy squeezed him in response.

“Fuck,” he huffed. “You’re always so tight.” It was a tight fit, every time. He was just a little bit too big, but the feeling of him was the best I ever had.

He slowly withdrew again, his face burying into my neck as his hand slid between us, beginning to work my clit.

Logan took deep, shuddering breaths against my skin as he fucked into me, my moans joining the sound of him moving in and out of me.

“I’m so close,” I gasped. “Please.”

He pulled up, somehow continuing his perfect rhythm as he pushed his jersey up over my breasts. His green eyes were blazing as he stared down at me.

“Come for me, baby. Choke my cock,” he swore roughly as he bent over and licked at my nipple.

That was it. I came hard, my whole body shaking as searing pleasure rushed through me.

“Yes,” he growled, his lips moving to my mouth as his pace picked up.

“One more.”

I wasn’t sure that I ever came down from the orgasm. His dick slid against the perfect spots inside me, over and over again, making my climax more of a never-ending, rolling wave.

“Logan,” I hissed, my hands reaching up and tangling in his hair as I kissed him over and over, feeling like I might die from how good the pleasure felt.

He jerked against me, groaning as his rhythm faltered. He came with a strangled moan, his cum filling me in hot bursts, on and on until it was dripping out, wetting my thighs and the bed underneath us.

His big body surrounded me as he continued to slowly move in and out, both of us gasping at the sensations.

“It gets better every time,” I murmured, an edge of wonder to my voice.

“It’s because we were made for each other. Twin souls, Red. I think I’ve been looking for you my whole life, and it’s like I can breathe now, because you’re finally here.”

A tear slid down my face as I gazed up at him.

“How did we get here?”

He brushed a kiss against my lips before he licked up my tear. “Luck, I guess.”

I blinked at that idea. I’d considered myself unlucky my entire life.

But suddenly, I wondered if he was right.

Because anyone who had Logan York telling them he loved them had to be at least a little lucky.

Right?

* * *

LOGAN

The sunlight streaming through the shades sliced through my pounding head like a knife, pulling me out of a restless, alcohol-soaked sleep. My mouth was dry, my body aching in a way that wasn’t just from the Stanley Cup Finals. My dick had been some kind of superhero last night—I’d fucked Sloane for hours after we’d gotten back.

I groaned, dragging a hand over my face and squinting against the brightness. Sloane was still asleep next to me, her body half-wrapped in the sheet, her dark hair spilling across the pillow. She looked peaceful, her lips slightly parted. My dick twitched as I stared at her, but I held myself back. No doubt she was going to feel like I did when she woke up, so it was good to let her sleep as long as possible.

Carefully, I pushed myself out of bed, every muscle protesting as I stumbled toward the bathroom. The tiles were cold against my bare feet, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from my skin. I flicked on the light, immediately regretting the blinding brightness, and turned the shower knob. Even the sound of water sputtering on was almost too loud. Fuck. This was going to be a fun day.

I dropped my briefs, ready to step into the shower, when something in the mirror caught my attention. A smear of color. Red.

I froze, leaning closer to inspect the reflection. It wasn’t just red—it was the unmistakable imprint of lips. Bright, perfect, and a fucking sexy souvenir from the night before.

Sloane. The memory of her mouth, her touch, how she’d given me the best fucking blowjob of my life—all of it came flooding back in vivid detail.

I exhaled, pressing my palms against the edge of the counter, my head dipping forward as the memory hit me like a slap to the face: her laughter low and teasing, the way her eyes sparkled as she’d sunk to her knees.

I straightened, and took a step to the shower…when something stopped me. An idea. Maybe it was the hangover talking—or the remnants of the champagne-fueled haze—but I reached for my phone on the counter.

Turning on the camera, I framed the image, angling just enough to capture the mark in all its glory. One quick snap and I had it: the perfect picture.

Fuck the Stanley Cup, I’d just gotten my trophy.

Still staring at the screen, I grinned, and headed to the shower, extremely pleased with how my life was going.